


Fragments, Fear and Fractals

by AlyssiaInWonderland



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bones tries to help, Flashbacks, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hypersexuality as a result of trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jim is Not Ok, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyssiaInWonderland/pseuds/AlyssiaInWonderland
Summary: Jim gets flashbacks to his past, and repeats old patterns of trauma. Eventually, he asks for Bones' help.This is very dark. Trigger warnings for past rape, child abuse, self-harm and self-destructive behaviour, as well as mildly graphic sexual content.





	Fragments, Fear and Fractals

Jim feels the ache in his muscles, pain flaring into his awareness. He closes his eyes, curls up on the bed. He tries to ignore the sensation of anything touching his skin.

* * *

 

_JT can’t move. He is vividly aware of the blankets, sloped over him, making a tent, and of the weight dipping the mattress on his right. He wants to move away, but he is frozen, and the monster that haunts his night’s open’s it’s arms. The monster says something that JT does not understand, and it grabs his arm like a vice. JT is tense enough that his entire, curled body is dragged easily past the friction of the sheets. He feels the arms of the monster wrap around him, it’s head leaning towards his. It’s hand rests by the back of his neck, it’s talons weaving into his hair, using it to keep his head forehead-to-forehead with the bulky figure. JT feels small, and helpless, and frightened; everything that he isn’t at any other time, everything he cannot allow himself to be._

_He tries to breathe, and the air in the space between them is shudderingly warm with the exhalations of the monster. Its breath is rancid in his lungs. JT holds his breath until his lungs are aching, and the monster notices. The talons pull at his hair, wrenching his head back. It says something, again, that JT cannot understand. He releases the breath with a whimper. The head of the monster looms closer, closer, and then there is a hot, wet mouth on his. He tries to pull away, but he is held still. After a moment of tension, of white hot fear overwhelming his senses, he gives in to the shivery wrongness that the kiss induces. He tries to think of pleasure. Sometimes, he even succeeds._

* * *

 

Jim snaps upright, scrambling off the bed. He grabs the dildos and lube, shoves them in their bag and stares at them, shaking slightly with the cold and the emotion threatening to spill out in salted water. He is caught, eyes flickering between the discard chute and his cupboard. He twitches towards the chute, makes to throw away the bag. At the last moment, he realises he cannot let go. The hand holding the silk bag balls into a fist around the fabric, and he slams it against the wall above the chute. His head is bowed, in shame and anger and fear. His shoulders tremble with the painful force of the blow, with the effort of damming his shattered thoughts. He turns and strides across the room, flinging the cupboard door open. He shoves the bag to the back base of the cupboard, behind his storage and gym bags. His eyes close as he shuts the cupboard door and tries to forget.

* * *

 

_Jim doesn’t know the name of the man he is kneeling for. He tells himself he prefers it that way. They don’t know him and he doesn’t know them, and the man doesn’t seem to care that Jim is far past the wrong side of sober. Jim tries to think he likes that, too. The hand in his hair feels like a ghost, sharp and a hotwire to that glazed state where everything is numb and on fire. He feels the fierce burn of the man’s cock pushing past his gag reflex, roughly taking and using his throat as he struggles against the urge to convulse around it. Tears stream from his eyes as he swallows desperately, the screams in his head becoming treacherous moans as they escape his mouth. He is pulled off the man’s softening dick roughly, and the man’s hand moves in to try and return part of the favour. His hand finds sticky cum cooling in Jim’s trousers, and Jim flushes with shame, tears still streaking from his eyes, from the stretch and the humiliation. The man swears, laughs darkly. He tells Jim that he must really get off on being used._

_Jim nods._

* * *

 

Jim slams on the shower, feels the water scouring him of the dried sweat and cum. The water is hot enough that steam billows through the bathroom, and he tells the computer to temporarily disable the alarms so that he can keep the almost-blistering heat pummelling his skin. The feeling is cleansing, comforting in its indiscriminate and non-sexual pain. He tries not to think of how raspy his voice is, how when he coughs he can feel where the pressure of the dildo tore at his oesophagus. The warm air helps.

* * *

 

_Jim limps home at three in the morning. He doesn’t expect his older, more conscientious roommate to be up, but he is, and despite the chaotic, swirlingly loud state of the white noise that envelops his brain, he smiles at the sight. Bones is glaring at some papers on his PADD, fierce frown in place and a half-drunk glass of bourbon on the table. His Academy issued pyjamas are paired with fluffy pink socks given to him by Joanna, and the sight makes Jim’s unstable emotions ricochet right back towards something fragile and filled with tears._

_Bones looks up, his eyes tracking across Jim’s bare, bitten torso, taking in the limp. Jim smiles, tries to pass it all off in his usual casually sexual bravado. Bones, as ever, doesn’t listen to his carefully constructed façade. Jim lets Bones scan him, shame tinging his skin with red. Bones swears frequently and vehemently, but he stops when Jim flinches. Jim lets Bones heal up the bruises, and takes the regenerator to the bathroom with him wordlessly. Jim isn’t sure how to feel about the fact that Bones knows how rough he took it, or how Bones seems to think it would be better to let him heal himself rather than make him let Bones heal him there. He thinks Bones is still trying to preserve Jim’s dignity, to reinforce that Jim is in control of the situation, because Bones is looking at him in a way that is so much like care and concern that Jim feels tears hot in his throat again._

* * *

 

Jim pulls on his issue pyjamas, and roughly knitted fluffy purple socks, courtesy of Joanna. He strips the bed, throws the sheets into the laundry chute and replaces them. He shakes the duvet, the clean scent washing over him. His eyelids are heavy, but despite his exhaustion he cannot close his eyes. He curls up in the middle of the bed, shivering violently despite the warmth of the covers. His skin feels a little sore, and he wants water desperately, but he wants to move even less. He feels sick, like a thick rectangle of pressure is lodged in his stomach and throat. He tries to speak, but words vanish into the remnants of his fear. The repeating patterns of his life flash before his eyes, and he wants to sob when hot arousal tries to pool in his tired, horrified body.

* * *

 

_Jim can’t fuck anyone on his ship. He won’t. It isn’t that nobody wants him; he finds many of them attractive in turn. But this is his ship, and he can’t let himself come so close to using his crew, especially not in this. So when his mind can’t take it anymore, when he can’t stop himself following that never-ending pattern, he has some dildos in a silk bag, and some lube, and a rare day off that he can waste by trying desperately to pull himself into the same fragmented state that lets him hurt._

_He hates that he has told himself he loves it so much that he can’t know the truth anymore._

* * *

 

Jim finds his voice, and he chokes out the words he only half-wants to work.

“Computer, message Bones. Say it’s a personal health issue.” He says. A moment later, he reconsiders. “Computer, cancel that message.” He whispers.

“Message has already been received and read, Captain.”  
  
Jim ignores the voice, and pushes his face into the pillow to muffle the sounds he finds himself making. His abused vocal chords are rasping ‘no’ against the pillow, and he finds himself rocking back and forth a little, in an attempt to calm himself. He doesn’t want Bones to see him like this, never mind that Bones has helped him heal from similar things in the past.

The only person he trusts enough to see him like this is Bones. So when the door buzzes open, he stays where he is, and watches as Bones walks into the dimly lit room. He has a med-kit in his hand, and he looks tired, his hair ruffled and his eyes worried.

“Jim? Are you ok? What happened?” Jim watches him come closer, sees the slight widening of his eyes at the split in his lip, and he pulls out his tricorder faster than Jim blinks. His mouth turns into a grim line, and Jim flinches. He knows it hurts, in his throat and his ass, but he didn’t expect Bones to look so pale. “Christ, Jim. Who did this to you?” He asks, already pulling out his dermal regenerator. “You don’t gotta talk about it with me if you don’t want to, but please, as your friend and as your CMO. Who do I need to discharge? 

“Me.” Jim winces at the way his voice struggles with the simple syllable, wants to cringe away and hide from how Bones will inevitably look at him when he realises what this means.

“What do ya mean, you? I ain’t gonna discharge you for bein’-“ He cuts off abruptly. His eyes flick up to meet Jim’s, and Jim can see the worry and pain etched into Bones’ face. Jim feels guilty for making him look that way.

 “I’m sorry, Bones.” He rasps, and how he managed not to flinch is a mystery to him.

“Dammit, Jim.” Bones whispers, softly, the heat indicated by the words absent in his expression of actions. He slowly reached out a hand, and rests it lightly on one of Jim’s. “You need to talk about this. Not…it don’t gotta be with me. Like I said before. But, I’d like to help. Can I?” He holds up the dermal regenerator, and Jim takes a deep breath, and nods.

Bones uses it on his lip and his throat first. He’s selected a model that can work through skin and thin layers of cloth, for which they are both thankful. As the pressing edges of pain fade from his throat and ass, Jim starts to shiver more violently. It’s as if the pain was grounding him, and now he is lost, his anchor gone. He can’t help but back away from Bones’ hand as he touches his arm. Bones is sitting on the right hand side of the bed, and Jim can’t process properly as it is. But Bones lets go instantly, shifting so he is kneeling and facing him.

“I’m gonna give you a hypo with some nutrients, and some for the dehydration, ok, Jim?” He says, and Jim nods through the shivers. He barely feels the hypo, and then Bones is watching him again, lays his hand out on the bed near Jim’s hands. Jim lets himself reach out and grasp at it. His knuckles are white with the pressure, but Bones doesn’t complain.

“Thanks, Bones.”  
  
“No need. I care about you, alright?” Bones says the words gently, but they sound sufficiently exasperated that it feels a little grounding to Jim. “I ain’t gonna make you talk about this right now. But after you’ve had a rest, you come to Medbay and we’ll set up a session with whoever you choose. Got that?”  
  
Jim nods, and clings to Bones’ hand. The warm, solid grip, and the sight of Bones kneeling so they are of a height, gradually lets his shivers subside. It’s something Jim still marvels at; the capacity Bones has to make him feel safe.

“When it happened, he’d always come into the bed from the right-hand side.” Jim offers up the words, now only broken because of the content and not his throat.

Bones’ breath pauses for a second, but then continues, calm and controlled as ever. His steady presence makes Jim feel less like he’s floating without hope.

“Well then.” Bones says, and extricates his hand. Jim wants to protest, but instead he watches, as Bones moves around the bed, so he is on the left. He sits near the foot of the bed, and Jim pushes himself upright as he watches Bones lie, horizontally across the double bed. It’s not quite a straight line, more of a diagonal so he still has the right length, but the gesture makes Jim want to smile. When he tries, he starts to cry. He drags at the bedsheets, shuffles until he can curl up with his head resting on Bones’ shoulder. Bones doesn’t try to move, and Jim burrows in closer, resting one arm across his chest. The presence of Bones’ broad, strong body under his, there but doing nothing to try and control him, is comforting. Jim tentatively reaches out and takes Bones’ free hand, guiding it onto his own shoulder blades.

Bones lets his hand rest there, making small, gentle stroking movements that lull Jim into relaxation.

“It wasn’t just the one. There were two people. My step-father. And…Kodos.” Jim’s voice wavers, chokes off into watery tears again, and his is overwhelmingly glad that Bones’ main response is simply to make the gentle strokes on his back firmer.

“I’m so sorry, Jim. But you’re ok now. I gotcha.”  
  
“Yeah. I want to talk.” Jim says, but his eyelids are drooping, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline and confusion. He tries to stifle a yawn, but he doesn’t succeed. He feels Bones’ amusement rumble in his chest. 

“It’s alright, darlin’.” He says. “Rest now. We can talk later, if ya want. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Jim tightens his grip around Bones’ torso in response, and lets his eyes slide shut.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I guess I'm publishing this. I needed to purge something from my brain again, so, here we are.
> 
> I hope this might be cathartic for someone, or something similar. This is mostly written for me, but yeah.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated. I hope y'all are okay. Remember to look after yourselves my darlin's <3


End file.
